


The Fabric of Your Flesh

by idoltina



Series: Stir Up The Beast Inside [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assault, Attempted Murder, Explicit Language, Gen, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, alpha werewolf Kurt, vampire Tina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten glimpses into the life of alpha werewolf Kurt Hummel. (Or, a retelling of canon with supernaturals.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fabric of Your Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Language, homophobia, violence, assault, attempted murder, references to sex and attempted suicide

The Cold One  
[01x01 -- Pilot]

Kurt’s nose wrinkles in distaste as soon as he sets foot in the choir room. There’s something off, something foul and inhuman. It’s not particularly strong, but it’s there, Kurt can smell it underneath the perfumes and colognes and musk.

There are only five of them, plus Mr. Schuester and Brad-the-piano-player. They’re all very clearly bottom of the rung on the social ladder, a group of misfits with a passion for music. There’s Rachel Berry, primadonna in the making; Mercedes Jones, another diva who offers Kurt a friendly smile and wave; Artie Abrams, fashion disaster; and Tina Cohen-Chang, the Asian girl with a stutter.

None of them are pack.

Not that Kurt has any real friends in the pack. He’s just close enough to be considered one of them, but none of them will get too close, something Kurt finds himself grateful for given recent developments.

It’s not until they start dance rehearsals that the scent gets stronger. He lifts Rachel, first, nearly gagging when he catches a whiff of her cheap, imitation Chanel perfume. Mr. Schuester suggests switching partners after that, and it’s with a wary eye that Tina approaches Kurt. Kurt rolls his eyes for dramatic effect, fighting back a smile at the thought that Tina might be questioning his strength. It’s a deception he has to pull off for this to work. It’s a good start.

He picks Tina up in his arms and promptly drops her to the floor, coughing at the scent form before, foul and unnatural. “Sorry,” he rasps. “I just... lost my breath for a minute. Here, let me help you up,” he says by way of apology. Another skeptical and disapproving look, but Tina places a partially gloved hand in his and lets him tug her to her feet. Her fingertips brush against his skin and Kurt jerks his hand back at the touch of her ice cold skin.

Mercedes makes a joke, teasing, and it’s not long before Rachel is storming out of the room in true diva fashion. But Kurt only has eyes for Tina and when Mr. Schuester finally announces that their rehearsal is over, Kurt follows Tina out into the hallway.

“Not here,” Tina hisses through gritted teeth. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Kurt follows her down the hall in silence, transfixed by her scent and the faint, tingling memory of her touch. She leads him out of the building and out onto the football field, over to the bleachers and then under --

“What are you?” Kurt asks once they’re safe under the bleachers.

“Not like you,” Tina answers quietly, her back turned to him. “I’m not like you and that pack of _mutts_ \--”

“Excuse you,” Kurt sniffs disdainfully. “Most of them might be a bunch of neanderthals, but _I_ am not a mutt.”

Tina laughs coldly. “What do you want me to compare you to, those prized pooches in dog shows?”

“It’s certainly more dignified,” Kurt mumbles. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Always the same questions,” Tina sighs melodramatically. She turns slowly and takes a step towards him in the shadows, looking up at him through long lashes. “What do you think I am?” she taunts, teeth glittering --

“A cold one.” The answer falls readily from his lips, as if he’s known it all along.

Tina laughs at him again, the sound decidedly warmer and more pleasant. “How very old world of you,” she drawls. “It’s a shame it was you. This would’ve been easier if it were one of the mutts.”

“What... exactly would’ve been easier?” Kurt asks carefully.

“The killing,” she says disinterestedly. “I think you’re the nicest person I’ll have had to kill. Well, if I can even call you a person --”

“Kill?” Kurt chokes out. His heart starts to pound in his chest and he wills himself to calm down. He doesn’t want a fight. “But I don’t --”

“Oh please,” she snaps. “I know who runs this town. And I know that if I let you live, I’m toast.”

“Why do you think that?” Kurt asks, clutching at the strap of his messenger bag.

“Because I know how you fleabags work,” she answers scathingly. “You can all read each others’ minds when you shift. And if you know about me, they’ll know about me, and they’ll want me dead.”

“You seem pretty well-versed in lycanthropy,” Kurt muses, trying to prolong the conversation long enough to figure out an exit strategy. “How old are you, really?”

“That’s an odd last request, but sure, I’ll bite,” she says with a grin. “Are you asking when I was born or when I died?”

“Which is politically correct?”

Another laugh, and Kurt feels his blood begin to race through his veins. _Don’t shift, don’t shift, don’t shift_ \-- “Why are you so concerned with pacifying me? It’s not going to make me any less likely to kill you.”

“Because I’m trying to make you see that you’re wrong,” Kurt admits. He really doesn’t want to have to resort to fighting. He’s never encountered anything -- _anyone_ like Tina before. Maybe if he lays his cards on the table, shows her that he’s not a threat, they won’t have to resort to what they are. “I don’t shift around them unless I absolutely have to, and even then, they tune me out most of the time. They don’t want to be in my head any more than I want to be in theirs.” He pauses, his heart rate slowing. “You and I both know what it’s like to be an outsider, Tina. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She seems to soften a little at that, but Kurt knows better, knows how every muscle and line and fragment of her skin will never be anything close. “I’m not one of your pack buddies,” she reminds him. “You can’t protect me. I don’t need you to.”

“You’re out-numbered,” Kurt throws back. “You may have flown under the radar, but if they find out about you, you won’t survive.” The whole situation hits a little too close to home, and Kurt can feel the sting in his eyes as the monster within him tries to claw its way out.

“Your eyes.” Kurt blinks at her, startled, and finds that her whole demeanor has changed. “ _You’re_ the --”

“Crap,” Kurt mumbles, fumbling in his messenger bag. He digs around, trying to find the case with the emergency supply of contacts.

“I could kill you.” Kurt looks up and he feels cold, watching her close in on him. “You took your eyes off of me, let yourself get distracted. I could kill you so _easily_.”

“But you haven’t,” Kurt says, the realization dawning on him. “You won’t.”

“You’re so sure,” Tina says, clearly marveling at his actions. “You’re so preoccupied with making sure no one finds out that you’re the alpha --”

“We’re not that different,” Kurt says, far more bravely than he feels. He clutches the contacts case in his hand and waits, his red eyes locked with hers and _oh_ , when did her eyes change?

Tina just stares at him for a long few moments before finally brushing past him. He follows her without thinking, like a moth captivated by a flame, and she laughs at him as they settle down on the bleachers. “No one would think you were an alpha, the way you’ve been following me around.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kurt says dryly, opening the case to grab a new pair of contacts. “Do you want some?” he offers politely. “They’re blue, which I know isn’t your preference, but --”

“They’ll do for now,” she says, and they sit in silence for a few minutes as they reapply their armor. Kurt feels like he learns a lot about her while they sit there. She uses layers as a defense mechanism as much as he does -- the contacts, the clothes, the stutter --

“You don’t have a stutter,” Kurt says aloud. “What --”

“I fake it,” she tells him, and even though she gives up the information easily, Kurt has a feeling things just got really personal really fast. “It’s -- we’re different, Kurt. And people notice you when you’re different. I can’t blend in if people notice me. So I fake the stutter, and people leave me alone. It helps me stay off the grid.”

Tina leans back on her elbows, closing her eyes to the sun, and Kurt bites his lip, debating whether or not it’s rude to ask. “I thought your kind couldn’t do sunlight.”

She grins, wide and toothy, and Kurt can see her fangs clearly for the first time. “Just a rumor,” she hums, donning a pair of sunglasses she unearths from her bag. “We don’t exactly do a lot to try and disprove it.”

“Why?”

Tina shrugs. “It’s easier to hunt this way. Humans think we only come out when it’s dark, so they’re not on their guard during the daylight.”

“And you’ve killed before,” Kurt says dully. It isn’t a question.

“Girl’s gotta eat,” Tina reasons. She looks over at Kurt for a moment before adding, “I try to make them count, if that makes you feel better. I only feed on people who deserve it, or on people no one will miss. That doesn’t make it easy on me. I don’t do kids and I don’t do blood bags unless they’re going to go to waste. It just seems wrong, you know? The humans -- they can still use that stuff.” Kurt bites out a harsh laugh, and Tina arches an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“It’s just such a twisted sense of morality,” Kurt points out. He bumps shoulders with Tina and offers her a grin. “You know, for a vampire.”

Tina doesn’t smile back. “I didn’t choose this,” she says quietly. “And when I still have a choice, I like to make good ones, you know?”

Kurt nods, the moment suddenly somber, and he doesn’t flinch away when Tina rests her cold hand against his. “Yeah,” he answers faintly. “I do.”

*****

The Deal  
[01x04 -- Preggers]

Kurt sets his make-up bag on one of the sinks in the locker room, shoulders relaxing with relief. He always has to wait until the rest of the guys clear out before he feels comfortable enough to shower and go through his moisturizing routine. It’d been so much easier last year, with Jeremy Reynolds still the alpha. Now --

Kurt sucks in a breath and concentrates on removing his contacts. He’s perfectly content letting the rest of the pack think what they want now that Jeremy’s gone. Kurt still gets shoved into lockers and tossed into dumpsters by the jocks on an almost daily basis. They still jeer at him and call him names, and if it weren’t for Finn, Kurt would probably be an omega by now. And as much as Kurt despises the rest of them (they’re such _animals_ sometimes), he knows it’s better to be in the pack than not. With every quickly healed bruise comes the reminder that he’s still safer this way.

Contacts removed, Kurt catches his reflection in the mirror. The blue is gone, a deep blood red in its place, a murderous betrayal. He lifts chin a little, trying to feed the monster in him enough to keep it at bay. “You’re better,” he tells himself firmly. “You’re better than all of them. One day, they will all work for you.”

 _And if you just took your rightful place,_ the voice inside growls, _they could do it now._

Kurt closes his eyes and hangs his head over the sink, gasping for air. He can’t give into this. He can’t. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be an alpha, much less McKinley’s. The rest of the pack has picked on him since his first day, shoved him around and ignored him and called him names.

_Runt._

Kurt’s hands flex at the edge of the sink. He can feel the ache down to his bones, the spasms in his knuckles. He can feel his hair stand on end and he wills himself not to shift. Anger is a useless emotion. It only fuels violence and hate, and Kurt’s been on the receiving end of both enough times not to give into them.

Kurt swallows hard to steel himself and opens his eyes as he calms down, watching in the mirror as the red gives way to the cool grey-blue he prefers. He hasn’t figured out how to control every alpha-driven instinct and outburst yet. He wishes he could. He wishes he could forego every precaution he takes to prevent anyone from finding out. He wishes he could do away with the contacts and the layers of clothing. Kurt hides behind so much even when he’s out. He prides himself on being brave enough to be honest with himself, with everyone else. It’d taken him so long to come out, but Kurt has never been ashamed of who he is, never uncomfortable in his own skin. He walks tall and proud, wears what he wants, likes what he pleases. And at the same time, he hides behind all of that. He wears his clothes like armor to disguise his strength, he keeps his eyes downcast in case the contacts burn. He lets the pack think he’s weaker than he actually is, because they’d never accept him if they knew. Letting them think they are in control is the best way to ensure his safety.

“ _Dude._ ”

Kurt whips around at the sound of the voice, startled, but retracts his claws when he realizes who it is. “Finn,” he breathes. “It’s just you.”

“Yeah -- dude, your _eyes_ ,” Finn chokes out, waving a hand at Kurt’s face. “Your eyes were --”

“Shh!” Kurt hisses, eyes darting around the room. “Someone could overhear you!”

“We’re alone,” Finn assures him. “Why haven’t you said anything? I bet the rest of the pack would --”

“What?” Kurt snaps bitterly. “Respect me? They wouldn’t -- you and I both know that.”

“But you have power,” Finn says, eyes surveying Kurt like he’s the eighth wonder of the world (and if Kurt weren’t so beyond freaked out about his secret getting out, he’d be basking in it right now). “You could force them to --”

“ _No_ ,” Kurt says vehemently. “Finn, you don’t get it. I don’t want it.”

Finn’s mouth just drops open, and he looks at Kurt like he’s grown a third head. “How could you not want it?” he asks. “How could you not want the power and the strength and the way they’d all look up to you? You could get them to do anything you wanted, Kurt --”

But Kurt shakes his head and plunks down on one of the locker room benches. “They wouldn’t accept me,” he says miserably. “And I wouldn’t be part of a pack anymore. Finn, I _need_ that. As badly as they treat me now, I’m still safer this way.”

Finn fidgets uncomfortably for a minute before sitting down next to Kurt. “They think it’s me,” he says quietly. “They think I’m just waiting for the right time, trying to make a big show out of the announcement. But that’s not my style, you know?”

“Of course not,” Kurt sniffs. “Leave it to me to be the one who makes a statement.”

“So what’s the plan?” Finn asks slowly. “Are you just gonna let us fight over it?”

Kurt starts to lift his shoulders in a shrug but stops halfway when he remembers. “No,” he replies. “That’d just result in chaos. And I might not be safe if I let that happen. I might not be able to --” He tapers off, eyes growing wide at the realization. “Tina,” he breathes. “They’ll kill her.”

“Whoa,” Finn cuts in. “Look, I know the members of the pack who aren’t in glee with us don’t exactly like the glee club, but --”

“You don’t understand,” Kurt interjects, frantic as he stands and paces the floor of the locker room. “Tina -- she’s a vampire.”

Finn’s eyes bulge for a second, but then he’s shaking his head in disbelief. “I’d know,” he insists. “A bunch of us would, we’d smell it all over her.”

Kurt offers him a twisted smile. “She’s surprisingly good at hiding it. We have that in common.”

Finn’s shoulders fall a little, and Kurt can smell the disappointment Finn has in himself clear across the locker room. “So what are you going to do?” Finn mumbles.

Kurt considers him for a moment before taking the seat next to him again, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “You want it, don’t you?” he says, pitching his voice lower. “You want what they think to be true so badly, Finn, I can smell the desire in your blood --”

“Not cool,” Finn grits out, shifting away from him. Kurt winces at that, stung.

“Can’t we just... keep doing what we’ve been doing?” Kurt suggests tentatively.

“What, lying?”

“Not... lying exactly,” Kurt says, hedging. “We’re performers, Finn. Can’t you just pretend to be the alpha?”

Finn looks over at him abruptly, eyes wide again. “Do you have any idea what kind of pressure that would put on me?” he whines. “I’m already under enough stress as it is, with homework and football and glee and pack and the baby --”

“The _what_?” Kurt gasps.

Finn loses all the color in his face, and he swallows before answering back with a whisper. “Quinn’s pregnant, and she’s keeping the baby and I don’t know what to -- Kurt, please, you can’t ask this of me.”

Kurt closes his eyes and breathes out hard through his nose. He can feel his nails digging into the wood on the underside of the bench, and if any of the pack were out in the hall, Kurt’s sure they could smell his desperation from there.

“Finn,” he says, his voice high and clear. “I’m sorry, I really am. But you can’t ask me to do it. They’ll turn on me.”

Finn softens a little. “You think -- you think they’ll kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admits with a heavy sigh. “But I’m not willing to take that risk.” He nudges Finn’s elbow with his own, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought you wanted to be an alpha.”

“Yeah, but actually _be_ one, you know? Not just fake it.” Finn stands and it’s his turn to pace the floors now, hand running through his hair anxiously. “I thought the whole point of glee club was that we didn’t have to hide who we really were.”

“That’s not what this is about, Finn,” Kurt says gently. “This is bigger than popularity and politics. Lives could be at stake. But if you came out as alpha, you could protect people. Me, Tina, Quinn -- the whole glee club. The rest of the pack looks up to you, Finn. They respect you. Use your influence for something good.”

Finn looks at him long and hard for a few minutes before flopping back down on the bench next to Kurt. “They’ll want proof,” he points out.

“So we’ll get you contacts,” Kurt says encouragingly. “It’s how I’ve been getting by the last month or so.”

Finn nods, staring at the space in front of him. His jaw is set in a hard line, his knuckles prominent as he cracks them. He’s such a good looking boy, and it pains Kurt to know the truth about Quinn. He knows realistically that Finn will never want him, not like that, but it doesn’t stop Kurt from appreciating his kindness and rugged good looks. “Thanks,” Finn mumbles after a few moments. “You know, for letting me choose and not forcing it on me like you could’ve.”

Kurt hesitates for a second before leaning his head against Finn’s shoulder, and he’s heartened when Finn doesn’t pull away or push Kurt off. “Like I said, I don’t want that kind of power. And so much of who we are isn’t by choice -- I know how good it feels when you feel like you have one.”

*****

The Secret  
[02x06 -- Never Been Kissed]

_Courage. -- Blaine_

Kurt’s whole face lights up in a smile at the text, and for one blissful moment, the world slows and orbits around the phone in his hands. Even the wolf inside is panting happily and wagging its tail, and Kurt can’t find it in him to care all that much. He’s aware enough to keep himself in check, to make sure his eyes don’t betray him, but it’s an afterthought to the way his heart pounds in his chest.

The world gets ripped from his hands and he’s shoved into a locker without care. Kurt hears the word pass Karofsky’s lips, an almost growl. “Runt.”

The wolf inside snarls angrily, snapping its jaw and clawing its way out. It takes one look at the broken phone on the floor for Kurt to give in. He races after Karofsky, feeling confrontational. He wouldn’t dare shift, not here, not now, but the wolf inside is glad that Kurt’s looking for a fight. “What is your _problem_?” he yells, bursting into the locker room. “I know you have a problem with the fact that I’m gay, but I’m _pack_. At the end of the day, if I had to defend you, I would. I don’t understand why you’re so determined to make me an outcast. Finn’s not going to kick me out of the pack.”

Karofsky doesn’t look up from his locker, but his grumbled answer is audible. “He should.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a bad influence,” Karofsky snaps.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurt asks, eyes narrowed.

“It means it’s not right, what you are,” Karofsky throws back, and he slams the locker door shut, still resolutely not looking at Kurt.

“I hate to break it to you,” Kurt says dryly, “but none of us are right. We’re _werewolves_.” Karofsky finally looks up at him, glaring, and Kurt doesn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “So this is because I’m gay, then.” Karofsky’s jaw sets and Kurt can practically see the wolf inside of him ready to tear its way out. “Being gay isn’t something you can _catch_. It’s not any different than being a werewolf. We’re born this way.”

Karofsky’s fist lands on a locker, the resulting dent much larger than it should be. Kurt can see the yellow of his eyes, can see the way Karofsky’s fingers flex, claws desperate to come out. “Do not push me, Hummel.”

Kurt’s eyes flick from the dent in the locker to Karofsky’s fists to his stupid, yellow eyes ( _beneath you, beneath you, he’s beneath you, make him submit_ , the wolf urges). Kurt flexes his own fingers, blood racing, and he remembers Blaine’s words. _Courage_. “Do it,” Kurt dares. “Shift. Teach me a lesson. Any marks you make will heal. It’s not going to change what I am.”

There’s a fire against his lips without warning, close and unfamiliar and invading. Kurt inhales sharply, the wolf cowering in surprise at the assault, and when Karofsky’s lips finally leave his, Kurt feels like he’s going to throw up. He opens his eyes, completely caught off guard, and sees his own shock mirrored on Karofsky’s face.

“You -- your eyes.”

Kurt reaches a hand up to touch his face, eyes fluttering shut as the tips of his fingers tremble over his eyelid. He knows he’s burned through his contacts, knows his eyes have betrayed him, knows Karofsky’s seen the red. Karofsky knows he’s the alpha.

Karofsky’s _gay_.

Kurt drops his hand and opens his eyes, red meeting yellow. The tension is palpable, both secrets out, and Kurt can only wonder what’s going to happen from here. He wouldn’t out Karofsky, he wouldn’t dare, but Kurt doesn’t trust Karofsky to extend him the same courtesy. Neither of them speak, though, and Karofsky’s out the door without another word.

As he leans against the row of lockers and slides to the floor, Kurt’s pretty sure he’s never felt more human than he does right now.

*****

The Mutiny  
[02x18 -- Born This Way]

Blaine Anderson is crazy.

He is absolutely, one-hundred percent crazy about Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel who can command the presence of a room by using his voice and wearing his heart on his sleeve. Blaine thinks he could learn a thing or two from Kurt. He thinks maybe he already has.

But not right now.

Right now, Kurt’s leg keeps brushing up against his and his fingers are tracing circles on Blaine’s knee and it is the most distracting thing in the entire world. All Blaine can focus on is how warm Kurt’s making him feel and how the constant movement on his knee is simultaneously ticklish and arousing and oh _god_ , his brain is just _gone_.

“Are you okay?”

Blaine blinks away from the film they’re watching on Kurt’s laptop. “What?”

Kurt bites his lip, flushing a little. “It’s just -- your heart’s beating really fast.”

It’s Blaine’s turn to blush and he looks away, unable to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Is it that obvious?”

The touch of their legs is deliberate now, Kurt nudging Blaine’s with his own. “We’re not really watching this movie, are we?”

“I am,” Blaine lies, and god, he never lies to Kurt, what is he _doing_? 

Kurt’s hand stills on his knee and Blaine’s heart skips a beat in disappointment. “I’m not,” Kurt confesses with a quiet laugh. “I’m too distracted. I can’t seem to stop touching you.”

Blaine turns back to face Kurt, beaming. “I don’t mind.”

A beat, and then Kurt’s leaning in a little closer, lips pressed right against Blaine’s ear. “You smell so good and all I want to do is kiss you --”

“We can do that,” Blaine blurts out. He moves his head a little to try and meet Kurt’s eyes and ends up with his lips about three inches from Kurt’s. “The kissing,” he elaborates needlessly, eyes trained on Kurt’s mouth. Kurt licks his lips a little and oh god, Blaine is never going to get over this, is he? He thought he might be used to it by now, for all that they’ve been dating a week and a half. “We can totally do the kissing thing, I like that. It. You.” Blaine closes his eyes and huffs out a breath to steady himself. “Can we just pretend I wordlessly agreed to make out with you instead of watching the movie and spare me the humiliation?”

Blaine can tell Kurt’s closed and moved the laptop by the sudden absence of sound and the way the bed shifts underneath him. Kurt’s hand ends up back on his knee and Blaine opens his eyes. “I’m glad we’re at that point,” Kurt says teasingly. “I was beginning to wonder how long we’d have to use the practicing metaphor as an excuse.” Blaine just smiles at him, not trusting himself to speak, and Kurt leans in again, hand curling around Blaine’s neck. “God, your heart is _racing_.”

Blaine closes the space between them and kisses Kurt quiet. Kissing is easy. Kissing is something Blaine knows how to do. Kissing is something he’s not going to make a fool out of himself doing. And it’s worth it to hear Kurt’s sharp inhale when Blaine’s lips touch his, to feel Kurt’s hands tighten on his knee and neck. Blaine may initiate most of their kisses, less gun-shy than Kurt, but it’s always always _always_ Kurt who controls them, ever since their first. Kurt doesn’t disappoint now and presses his lips firmly to Blaine’s. It doesn’t take long for Kurt to suck on Blaine’s bottom lip, or for Kurt’s tongue to brush against Blaine’s lips, a silent request for permission to enter. It’s exhilarating, giving himself over to this boy, and Blaine practically melts against him when Kurt’s tongue slips into his mouth.

Kurt’s moan is quiet and brief but there, low and in the back of his throat, and Blaine feels warm all the way up to the tips of his ears. Kurt closes the kiss a little too quickly, lips pressing against Blaine’s almost as an afterthought. His eyes are determinedly closed and his face is flushed and he looks _adorable_. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m just a little --” He tugs open the first button on his dress shirt and fidgets uncomfortably with the hem of his sweater vest.

Blaine smiles again, he can’t help it. “You were going to say ‘hot under the collar,’ weren’t you?”

“Warm, thank you,” Kurt snaps, but there’s no real bite to his words. “Do you mind if I --” He tapers off and gestures to his sweater vest and _oh_ , Blaine totally does not have a problem with that. He shakes his head wordlessly and swallows hard as Kurt peels it off and tosses it onto the desk chair with their blazers. “Now,” Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to Blaine, “where were we?”

The where doesn’t seem to matter all that much when Blaine recaptures Kurt’s lips, because Kurt makes a happy noise against his mouth and then his hand is on Blaine’s shoulder and pressing firmly and oh god, they’re laying down now, Blaine’s back pressed against Kurt’s mountain of pillows. They’re still hardly touching, socked feet knocking together, hands fisted and flexing on shirts and hips and necks and shoulders. It’s so simple, this press of feet and hands and lips, and Blaine releases a happy sigh into Kurt’s mouth. He could do this for hours.

But they can’t, and they’re very clearly not going to, if the way Kurt’s kisses turn a little harder indicate anything. His lips trail across Blaine’s jaw and down to his neck. He breathes in deep, hand flexing at Blaine’s waist, and Blaine tries to ignore the way his dick stirs with interest in his pants. “God,” Kurt groans. “You smell _so_ good.” Blaine can feel Kurt’s heart thundering against his own, and he feels a swell of pride at being able to have that effect on Kurt. Kurt’s heart slows, though, and when he lifts his head from Blaine’s neck, there’s a frown on his face. “What’s the matter?”

Blaine blinks up at him in surprise and runs a soothing hand down Kurt’s chest. “Nothing,” he answers slowly. “Why do you think there’s something --”

_*tap*_

Blaine blinks around the room in surprise. “What was that?”

_*tap*_

Kurt looks around the room now too, bewildered. “It sounds like something hitting glass --”

_*ping*_

They both look over at Kurt’s phone on the nightstand, and Blaine has to suck in a breath to conceal just how turned on he is when Kurt drapes himself over Blaine’s torso to make a grab for it. He frowns at the message for a minute before closing his eyes and letting out a groan. He rolls off of Blaine and makes his way to the dorm room window, pushing it open --

Finn clambers through the window, every long limb of him, and Blaine sits up in Kurt’s bed, startled. “What --”

“My _window_ ,” Kurt hisses, shoving Finn’s shoulder. “You climbed through my _window_.”

“How did you even get up here?” Blaine asks, glancing at the open space Finn’s just entered through. “It’s three stories up --”

“You could’ve done the _normal thing_ ,” Kurt continues, clearly annoyed, “and gone to the front desk and told them you were _visiting your brother_ , but no. You had to climb up three stories and come through my window when I am clearly having some alone time with my boyfriend --”

“You have to come back,” is all Finn says.

“Back?” Blaine echos, glancing between them.

“Why?” Kurt asks.

“They know,” Finn answers, almost in a whisper. He glances around the room like someone might overhear them. “About Tina, and about me.”

“I thought you were dating Quinn,” Blaine starts, but he tapers off when he sees how pale Kurt gets. “What --”

“What’s their plan?” Kurt asks sharply, and Blaine recoils a little at his tone.

“What we’ve known it would be all along,” Finn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “They want to kill her.”

“ _What_?” Blaine yelps, rising from the bed. “Who? Why? Kurt, what is he talking about?”

Kurt doesn’t answer, just closes his eyes and balls his hands into fists. He takes measured breaths, in and out and so obviously not calm even though he’s trying to be. It’s with one last, sharp inhale that he relaxes his hands and opens his eyes, nodding once at Finn. “Grab me some clothes.”

“You’re not _leaving_ , are you?” Blaine asks, aghast.

Kurt turns to face him and cradles Blaine’s face in his hands, eyes blue and watering and so soft. “Blaine, listen to me, I have to.”

“What, no,” Blaine protests, bringing his hands up to anchor at Kurt’s wrists. “Kurt, where are you _going_? Finn just said Tina’s life is at stake, you can’t just go running into whatever this is. Karofsky threatened to kill you, remember? That’s why you’re here. You can’t go --” 

“I have to,” Kurt repeats, thumb running up and over the apple of Blaine’s cheek. He looks about ready to cry and no, this is all wrong. Less than five minutes ago they were gloriously kissing and now -- “I’m the only one who can protect her.”

Blaine shakes his head and fuck, _he’s_ going to cry now. This isn’t making any sense. “And who’s going to protect you?”

Kurt swallows in an effort to steady himself. “I don’t need to be protected.”

Blaine whines in frustration and flicks his gaze over to Finn. “Finn? A little help here?” But Finn’s just staring at Kurt like he’s said the best thing in the world, and it’s with a twist in his gut that Blaine realizes Finn came to coax Kurt come with him. “Kurt,” Blaine pleads, refocusing his attention on his boyfriend. “Kurt, I know how much you miss you friends, but this isn’t -- it’s not _safe_.”

“I’ll make it safe.”

“How?” Blaine asks incredulously. “Why don’t you just call the police and tell them --”

But Kurt’s shaking his head, Finn mirroring the action behind him. “It doesn’t work that way. It has to be me. I have to try.”

“This is insane!” Blaine exclaims, voice a little strangled. “What if something happens to you?”

There’s a flash of something in Kurt’s eyes, a brief betrayal of nerves at the thought, but he only leans in close and nuzzles his nose against Blaine’s. “Then at least you’ll be safe here.” He presses one last soft, wet kiss to Blaine’s lips and then they’re gone, leaving Blaine breathless and weak-kneed behind them. Blaine sways a little on the spot, eyes taking in his surroundings. Kurt, this is Kurt’s dorm room, most of his things are still here and he’s just _gone_.

Blaine Anderson is crazy.

He is absolutely, one-hundred percent crazy about Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel who is his best friend. Kurt Hummel who is insanely gorgeous and kind-hearted and spent part of his night with his tongue in Blaine’s mouth. Kurt Hummel who is his boyfriend. Kurt Hummel who just left his safe dorm room at ten o'clock at night to run off and join his step-brother on what sounds like the world’s dumbest suicide mission.

Blaine Anderson is crazy, and that’s why he follows them.

It takes him a minute or two to make his brain work again, to close Kurt’s dorm room door behind him and bolt down three flights of stairs to the parking lot. Kurt doesn’t answer his phone the first two times Blaine tries to call, and by the third time, Blaine’s out in the parking lot watching a set of tail lights move towards the front gate. He makes a mad dash for his own car and speeds off after the Navigator.

They end up at McKinley.

Blaine’s not sure why he’s all that surprised. He thought maybe they’d end up back at Kurt’s house to talk to his father, or at Tina’s to make sure she was safe. Arriving at McKinley makes Blaine’s heart drop to his knees, because it means there’s going to be a confrontation.

He isn’t disappointed when he finally finds them, out on the football field. Kurt and Finn are both there, and Tina, and a few other people Blaine knows to be their friends from glee club (he’s met them all in passing a few times, but most of his memories are from a night full of alcohol, hazy and fuzzy around the edges). Blaine pauses and waits in the tunnel to the locker room, hand dipping into his coat pocket. A handful of guys -- all jocks, Blaine would guess -- make their way out onto the field to meet them, and Blaine’s fingers enclose around his phone in preparation. _Someone_ has to have the sense to call the police if this goes wrong.

There’s a laugh, echoed by the rest of the guys, and Blaine recognizes the guy from the benefit -- Azimio? -- leading the pack. Karofsky’s close by, albeit silent, and Blaine’s hand tightens around his phone in anger. “Look at who they brought back,” Azimio laughs. “The _runt_. As if he could stop us.” More laughter.

The guy with the mohawk -- Puck, if Blaine remembers correctly -- starts forward, fists clenched in anger, but Kurt holds up a hand, and Puck freezes immediately. The Asian guy -- Mike, that’s Tina’s boyfriend -- closes a hand around Tina’s wrist and silently moves her behind him. It’s an odd gesture of intimacy and affection at a time like this, but the sight somehow makes Blaine feel better.

“Did you come back to fight for it?” Azimio says, clearly taunting. “Once we figured out your fake of a brother wasn’t the real thing, did you think it was your right to take it instead?” Blaine’s eyes flick to Kurt, and it unnerves him to see his boyfriend so decidedly _calm_ about the whole thing. It’s like he doesn’t care that lives are being threatened, doesn’t care that he’s being made fun of, doesn’t care that they treat him like crap. That’s not the Kurt he knows. He’s just standing there, calm and cool and collected, shoulders squared and jaw set.

“If you want her,” Kurt says evenly, his voice colder than Blaine’s ever heard it, “you have to go through me.”

Azimio smiles, all teeth. “Not a problem. And when we’re through with you? We’ll tear her apart limb from limb and one of us will take the throne.”

Blaine fumbles for his phone, fingers shaking as he tries to dial the numbers. His can’t tear his gaze away from the field, though, and his heart stops when Azimio takes a step forward. “Last chance,” Kurt grits out, matching him a step. The provocation seems to piss off Azimio, though, and he rushes forward as if he’s snapped, hands making a grab for Kurt’s throat. Blaine’s scream dies in his throat, his fingers useless against the screen of his phone, and --

Kurt is _gone_.

There’s no trace of him anywhere, and in his place is a large, overgrown, real live _wolf_. It tackles Azimio to the ground, giant paws resting firmly on his shoulders, preventing Azimio from moving. The wolf bares its teeth and lets out a hair-raising growl, its eyes glowing bright red.

“ _Shit_ ,” Azimio hisses, struggling under the weight of the wolf. “What the _hell_ \--” The wolf snaps its jaw and snarls, nose right in Azimio’s face before it lifts its head to look at the rest of the jocks on the field. They’re staring down at the wolf in complete confusion and horror, but the wolf isn’t intimidated by the numbers, not in the least. It growls again, low in its throat, eyes locked with each and every one of them.

Karofsky’s the first to fall down to his knees and bow his head, whining a little. And it’s a real whine, almost dog-like, and it echos through the crowd of them as they all fall to their knees, one by one. The people behind the wolf -- Finn and Puck and Mike, Quinn and Santana and Tina -- all drop to one knee silently. It looks like a gesture of respect.

The wolf lifts its head and howls, and Blaine drops to his knees.

The cement is hard under him and he’s certain his knees are going to bruise. Blaine feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and he clutches his phone uselessly in his hand, eyes fixed on the wolf on the field.

It’s with a parting snarl that the wolf retreats and lets Azimio up off of the ground, eyes never leaving Azimio’s figure. Finn’s the first to speak, and he sounds almost smug. “I told you,” he says. “I told you that if you wouldn’t listen to me, I’d find someone you would listen to.” The pieces are clicking together in Blaine’s brain but it’s still not quite working, still not quite making sense. Azimio gives the wolf one last apprehensive glance before holding his hands up in surrender. The pack of jocks turn their backs on the rest of them and retreat from the field. If they were dogs, their tales would be tucked between their legs.

And that’s it. There are no more threats, no more taunts, no more jeers. There wasn’t even really a fight.

Just a giant wolf.

Blaine blinks at the field in disbelief and his brain _wants_ to acknowledge what just happened, what it means, but it can’t. He just can’t.

Tina gently removes Mike’s hand from her arm and approaches the wolf slowly. She kneels down in front of it, meets its eyes for a second, and then leans forward to wrap her arms around its neck. Blaine thinks he hears her whisper a faint _thank you_ , and the wolf nuzzles closer to her in response. Blaine has enough of his wits about him at this point that he can drop his phone back into his pocket and push himself to his feet, palms resting against the wall of the tunnel for purchase. Tina pulls away after a moment and closes her eyes, groaning. “God, I’m so... thirsty.” She says the last word after a pause, sniffing around the air.

In the half of a second it takes for Blaine to blink, she’s five feet in front of him, eyes blood red. “Oh,” she says faintly. “It’s you. I -- I’m really sorry about this, Blaine. But I need this.” Blaine opens his mouth to ask for clarification, but Tina opens her mouth along with his, and her teeth are sharp and pointed and _aiming for his throat_ \--

Tina’s body hits the ground with a loud _thud_ , and Blaine’s stomach twists at what sounds like bones cracking. The wolf is on top of her, pinning her to the ground, and it’s with a slight groan that Tina tries to sit up. The wolf leans in close and starts to lick sloppily at her face, paws weighing heavily on her shoulders. “Okay, okay, okay, god,” Tina snaps, batting her hands at the wolf’s face. “I’m not going to eat your boyfriend, quit _slobbering_ on me.” The wolf gives her one last long lick to the face before settling back on its hind legs. “I haven’t eaten in eight days, Kurt, I’m _starving_ to death over here.”

There’s a snort of derision -- Santana, when Blaine looks up -- and Quinn laughs like Tina’s made a joke. “Come on, ice queen,” Santana sighs, picking her up off of the ground. “Let’s find something to quench your thirst.”

Mike appears at Tina’s side almost instantly and shoots her a look, hand anchoring on her elbow. Tina throws an apologetic look in Blaine’s direction. “I am sorry,” she mumbles. “I’ve been under guard dog watch for the last week or so and you smell _really good_.” Blaine blushes from his neck all the way up to his hairline and looks away, burying his hands in his pockets as they walk away from him, Puck bringing up the rear. The wolf meets Blaine’s eyes for a moment, concerned and cerulean, before padding off into the locker room after them. Blaine’s heart starts to race, and the wolf breaks out into a gallop.

“Hey.” Blaine blinks over at Finn, whose hands are stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched almost apologetically. “Look, man,” Finn says awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “We didn’t count on you following us, and we know you probably have a bunch of questions, but can you just... come back to the house with us? Kurt’s gonna want a shower and some time to cool off before he can talk to you.” Blaine nods dumbly and follows him out into the parking lot.

Somehow he doesn’t crash his car on the way to the Hummel-Hudson house. He doesn’t trip up the stairs on his way to Kurt’s room. He can’t do much more than sink onto the bed in shock and cross his legs indian-style as he waits, mind and heart racing. He replays the night’s events in his head over and over again, catches a new detail every time, another clue. He toys with a stray thread on the comforter while he waits, and it’s an hour before the front door clicks open and shut and Blaine’s whole body tenses in anticipation.

Kurt pushes open his bedroom door slowly, tentative and shy. His fingers curl around the edge of the door as he pokes his head inside, his eyes their normal brilliant shade of blue. He looks almost afraid to come into the room, but after a moment’s hesitation, he crosses the threshold and closes the door quietly behind him. It takes him another moment to make his way to the foot of the bed and sit down gingerly. Blaine gets momentarily distracted by how _hot_ he looks, fresh out of the shower in a pair of black jeans and a thin, white t-shirt. Kurt lifts his eyes and bites his lip. “So.”

“So,” Blaine echoes faintly, fingers still toying with the thread. “Tina’s a vampire.”

Kurt blinks at him, surprised, and then bursts out laughing, his smile lighting up his whole face. Seeing Kurt smile automatically makes Blaine smile, and he feels his shoulders relax a little. Kurt scoots a little closer, knee knocking against Blaine’s, and then he stops, eyes lifting to survey Blaine carefully. “You’re not -- you’re not scared of me?”

Blaine’s smile falters, and he reaches out to brush his fingertips against Kurt’s. “Kurt,” he says softly. “You just saved my life. If I’m afraid of anyone, it’s Tina. She tried to _eat me_.”

“Well, technically, she was going to bite you and drink your blood, but that’s just semantics.” Kurt bites his lip, clearly nervous and uncomfortable. “So you’re not -- you’re not repulsed, then? You still like me?”

“Of course I still like you,” Blaine insists, linking their hands together properly. “I mean, I’m still kind of in shock and it’s a lot to process, but --”

Kurt’s arms are around his neck instantaneously, face buried in the crook of Blaine’s neck. “Thank you,” Kurt breathes, “for not treating me like a freak.”

“I’d never do that to you,” Blaine says quietly, and it’s on a shaky inhale that Blaine realizes Kurt is crying. Blaine brings his arms up to wrap around Kurt’s back, holding him close. It takes a little while for Kurt to calm down again, breathing evening out, and it’s when he breathes in deep against Blaine’s neck that Blaine remembers. “Earlier tonight,” he says slowly. “You said I smelled really good. Was that...”

Kurt pulls away and blushes furiously, hands hiding his face. “Can we just forget that ever happened?” he mumbles from behind his hands.

“Forget making out with my incredibly hot werewolf boyfriend?” Blaine muses. “No way.” Kurt peeks out from between his fingers before finally dropping his hands. “Now, about Taylor Lautner -- is the _Twilight_ thing attraction, or do you feel some sort of kinship to him in that role? How much of that lore is actually even true?”

“Oh my god,” Kurt groans. “Out of all of the questions you could have, _those_ are the first one’s you’re asking?” He pauses, though, when he sees Blaine’s grin. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

The corner of Kurt’s mouth twitches into a smile. “A little.”

*****

The Throne  
[3x20 -- Prom Queen]

The gym is silent and too-bright, but all Kurt can hear is white noise. He can still see each individual face, watching him, judging him, waiting for him to react. He can hear the thoughts of the pack even in human form, jumbled and echoing in his mind. He can feel them closing in like he’s prey, ready to pounce. His heart beats erratically against his chest, _thump, thump, th -- thump_ , and Kurt does the only thing he knows how to do in that moment.

He runs.

He can vaguely hear Blaine calling after him -- _Kurt, stop! Kurt!_ \-- but Kurt can’t stop, can’t slow down. He runs and runs and runs, down one darkened hallway, around a corner to the next, heart practically beating out of his chest. He considers himself lucky to still be running on two legs instead of four, and it’s when he hears Blaine’s voice again -- _Kurt, stop, stop, please_ \-- that he clings to that, to the knowledge that he’s still human. He hasn’t shifted. He still has some semblance of control.

His life is a mess.

“I have never been so humiliated before in my life,” Kurt chokes out through his tears, and oh god, he’s crying, when did he start crying? He whirls around to face Blaine and almost turns back around, because Blaine’s eyes look like how Kurt’s heart feels. “I don’t know how I ever thought that things would be any different, that they’d -- they’d respect me. I knew, I knew all along that this is how they’d react.”

Blaine swallows hard, not moving closer but not moving away either. “It was just a stupid joke.”

“No,” Kurt says vehemently. “It wasn’t. This isn’t just because I’m gay. This isn’t just humiliating in front of the entire school -- it’s humiliating in front of the pack.”

Confusion flashes on Blaine’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“They’re trying to put me in my rightful place,” Kurt explains, pacing the floor between rows of lockers. Blaine hesitates for a second, clearly debating what to do, before he sits down on the tile floor, leaning his back against the lockers and listening. “They’re _mocking me_. It’s a blatant show of disrespect. And you want to know what the worst part is? They get more out of it because I’m gay. Humiliating me in front of the pack -- that’s what the goal was. Humiliating me in front of the entire school? That’s just icing on the cake for them.”

“Okay, come here,” Blaine says calmly, offering out a hand. “Would you at least sit down?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I need to burn off the excess energy. I don’t want to shift.”

“We definitely don’t want that,” Blaine agrees. “Not after you worked so hard on your outfit.” Kurt pauses in his pacing to look down at Blaine, who offers him a small, tentative smile. “Do you want to go?” he offers. “We don’t have to stay.”

And there it is, the choice of fight or flight. Kurt has run so many times before. He ran tonight. Blaine’s run before too, and with good reason. Kurt knows that now. But it’s a choice, it’s always a choice. There’s always going to be someone trying to force his hand, trying to make him run. Kurt thought he’d overcome that when he transferred back, when he stood up for Tina and reclaimed his spot as alpha. Now, Kurt realizes, he still has so much to prove. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He’s never had any reason to believe that a good portion of the pack would accept him as alpha, not without good reason. And god, what he did to Azimio a few weeks ago was nothing short of bullying. He hasn’t earned the respect of the pack at all.

“I can’t run,” Kurt says aloud, the realization dawning on him.

“Okay,” Blaine says agreeably. “You don’t have to go in there and subject yourself to that if you don’t want to --”

“No,” Kurt says firmly. “I have to go back in there.”

Blaine’s brow wrinkles a little in confusion, but all he asks is, “Why?”

Kurt kneels down next to him and reaches for his hand to anchor himself. Kurt can almost always count on Blaine to keep him grounded, human. “If we leave now, if we -- if we run, then you don’t get rid of that lump in your throat from running away.” Blaine shifts a little against the lockers, uncomfortable, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand. “If we leave, it tells the school that they can get away with bullying me, and I refuse to let them. I’m not going to let them touch us or what we have.” Blaine smiles a little at that, warm and a little bashful, and Kurt reaches out his other hand to run his thumb up and over the apple of Blaine’s cheek. “I refuse to let them hurt you.”

Blaine exhales shakily, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to the inside of Kurt’s palm. “And --” He clears his throat and opens his eyes, trying to collect himself. “And what about the pack?”

Kurt shifts so that he’s sitting next to Blaine and leaning against the lockers as well. He glances down at their laced fingers, quiet for a moment, before he draws in a breath and looks back up. “They want me to accept my crown and take the throne? Fine.” He meets Blaine’s eyes, resolved, and lifts his chin. “It’s time I earned my place as alpha.” Blaine smiles warmly at him, beaming, but something shifts in his eyes after a moment and his smile falters. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Blaine breathes, shaking his head. “It’s just --” He scoots in close and reaches out his free hand to touch Kurt’s face. “Your eyes, they’re --”

Kurt inhales sharply and snaps his eyes shut, willing the wolf to just _go away_ for a little while. “I’m sorry, I --”

“Don’t be.” Kurt blinks his eyes open in surprise, somehow startled by Blaine’s hand still warm on his face. “Don’t hide,” Blaine murmurs, returning the intimate and comforting gesture Kurt had given him earlier by running his thumb across Kurt’s cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for who you are.”

Kurt wants nothing more than to kiss him, then, but this isn’t the time or the place, so he accepts the packet of tissues Blaine offers him and starts to clean his face. His eyes have shifted back to their normal blue, but Kurt takes the extra couple of minutes to get the wolf under control. He doesn’t have a spare set of contacts with him, an oversight on his part and a mistake he won’t be repeating.

Blaine does kiss him when they part ways at the door near the stage, a soft press of lips against Kurt’s cheek. Blaine’s scent lingers behind after he leaves, and Kurt breathes in deep before he enters the gym. He feels like he’s stepped back in time, or maybe like he never left the gym at all. Every eye is trained on him again the second he starts to ascend the stairs to the stage, and Kurt feels like he can hear everything even without his heightened senses.

Principal Figgins places the crown atop Kurt’s head, hands him the scepter and presents him to his subjects. It’s plastic, stupid plastic and it’s not supposed to mean anything, but Kurt suddenly feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The school sees him overcoming adversity; the pack sees him shouldering responsibility. Kurt wonders how much simpler his life would be if he were _normal_ , but he doesn’t let the thought occupy his mind long. It’s a silly dream that will never be a reality, and it doesn’t do to dwell on dreams too long. He’s at a loss for what to say, because really, what does one say at a time like this? Does it have to be significant? Meaningful? Witty? Does he have to say anything at all? He feels a little ridiculous, standing up here with the stupid scepter in his hand. He half wishes wizards existed and the scepter was a magic wand instead. Maybe that’d make all of his problems disappear. A faint memory comes back to him, of Tina and her teasing words, comparing him to a show dog. He smiles in spite of himself, and the human speaks for him. “Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton.”

There’s a lull followed by scattered applause and then it grows and they’re cheering for him. Kurt would almost be touched if he weren’t so offended by the election. Whatever euphoria he feels at the approval of his peers is short lived when Figgins announces the first dance, because Karofsky is crossing the stage and eyeing him nervously. Kurt can smell the fear all over him, the instinct to run. Karofsky doesn’t even bother to look at him as they stand side by side, but he mutters out of the side of his mouth, begging, pleading for Kurt to believe him. “I didn’t know.”

Kurt’s lips thin into a line and he nods once, grateful that the light is right in his face so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the eye. “I know.”

They slowly descend the steps in front of the stage to make their way out onto the gym floor. Karofsky’s eyes keep darting around the crowd, but he directs his words at Kurt. “You’re not afraid of them killing you anymore?”

Kurt almost rolls his eyes at the use of ‘them,’ but he maintains his composure, tries to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. “I am, a little. But I’m not running away this time.”

“Do you know what this means?” Karofsky hisses quietly, slowing as they reach the center of the floor. “If I dance with you? It might be _my throat_ they try to rip out.”

Kurt stops in the center of the floor as Karofsky takes a few more steps in front of him. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “An alpha’s first and foremost duty is to ensure the safety and protection of his pack, unless it interferes with his mate.” Karofsky turns around, eyes wide and jaw set, and Kurt matches him easily. “You were the first to kneel. You’re pack.”

The music starts to play but Kurt hardly hears it over the pounding of Karofsky’s heart, and Kurt knows what’s going to happen before Karofsky even takes a breath to speak. “I can’t,” Karofsky whines, and he’s gone, running out of the gym with his tail tucked between his legs. Kurt watches him go and turns slowly in place. Every face and pair of eyes watching him blurs together, one indistinguishable from the next, and it takes all of Kurt’s effort not to run away again. So much for claiming his throne. His pack just _abandoned him_.

“Excuse me.”

Kurt turns on the spot, vision hazy for a second. His eyes start to clear and there is Blaine, handsome, endearing, wonderful Blaine, always trying to rescue him. But then Blaine’s arm is rising and oh, he’s offering Kurt his hand. Blaine’s eyes flick to his hand for a second, almost as if he’s second-guessing the choice he’s just made, but then he’s lifting his eyes again, and Kurt falls in love with him all over again. Blaine’s eyes are warm and wet and Kurt can smell the fear all over him, but Blaine doesn’t back down. He offers Kurt a warm smile and clears his throat a little, trying to collect himself. “May I have this dance?”

The world shifts, in that moment.

This is so much more than the two of them dancing together in a homophobic environment. This is so much more than Blaine facing his past and his fears after Sadie Hawkins. It is all of those things, and it’s not like they’re unimportant, but they’re secondary. Blaine asking him to dance is so much bigger than that. It sends a message to the rest of the pack that Blaine has faith in Kurt’s ability as an alpha, which is an even bigger deal because Blaine isn’t like them and he goes to a different school but he knows everything. He knows everything and is still standing up as the alpha’s mate, as part of his pack. Kurt’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry or lick Blaine’s face in gratitude.

He settles for placing his hand in Blaine’s and answering with a breathless, “Yes. Yes, you may.”

*****

The Claim  
[03x05 -- The First Time]

It’s easy enough to find Blaine after opening night. Kurt can smell the adrenaline and disappointment all the way backstage, and he isn’t disappointed when he comes out from the curtains to find Blaine dancing onstage. Blaine stops mid-spin to collect himself, not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “How’d you know I was still here?”

The corner of Kurt’s mouth twitches in an effort not to smile. “I’d know your scent anywhere.” He can tell that Blaine rolls his eyes even though Kurt can’t see it. “And I know you,” Kurt adds softly. “I know you beat yourself up over something you think you’ve done wrong.”

“It’s just this move,” Blaine answers distractedly, waving a hand at him. “I know I can do it better --”

“Blaine.” Kurt closes the distance between them and rests a hand on Blaine’s forearm. He doesn’t grab hold, leaves the choice up to Blaine, and is rewarded when Blaine finally turns to face him. “About the other night --”

“I screwed up, I know,” Blaine answers in a rush, cutting him off. “You made it clear that you didn’t want me --”

“That’s _not_ true,” Kurt insists, tightening his hold. Blaine glances down at his hand, and Kurt relaxes his grip a little, flushing. “Blaine, of course I wanted you.”

“Wanted,” Blaine echos dully.

“Wanted. Want. I still want you,” Kurt admits, and he feels his face grow even more hot, feels the twist in his gut and desire in his veins and -- He lets go of Blaine’s arm and flexes his fingers in an attempt to keep himself in control. “I just didn’t want it like that. I need you to understand that.”

“Because I pushed.”

“Because,” Kurt sighs, “of a lot of things. Because you were stressed out and drunk, because we were in the backseat of your car, because it’s mating season, because it means a lot more than it normally would, because you’d spent the night dancing with Sebastian --”

Blaine looks up sharply at that and makes a grab for Kurt’s hand. “Sebastian doesn’t mean anything to me, Kurt,” he insists. “And I know he was really obvious about his interest, but --”

“You have no idea,” Kurt bites out. Blaine just looks at him quizzically, and Kurt draws in a breath. “I... probably should’ve said something before, but he’s -- Sebastian is --”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Blaine says seriously. “He’s a _werewolf_?”

“An omega,” Kurt clarifies. “But yes.” Blaine rubs a hand over his face as he processes the information, and Kurt bites his lip, apologetic. “It’s only different because I am too,” he explains. “And I had to sit there and watch him chase you and goad me and pretend it didn’t bother me --”

“What did he say to you?” Blaine asks.

“Nothing,” Kurt snaps dismissively, but he softens at the look on Blaine’s face. “Just -- he could tell that you and I hadn’t been... intimate. And he rubbed it in my face and tried to beat me to it.” Kurt’s jaw sets in anger as he remembers Sebastian dancing circles around Blaine the other night. “You don’t understand,” Kurt grits out. “For wolves, it’s so much more about instinct and smell and genes and arousal. What Sebastian did the other night was the equivalent of one dog walking up to another and sniffing its ass.”

Blaine flushes bright red at the comparison, and Kurt would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a swell of pride at the way Blaine grasps his hand tighter. “I feel strangely violated,” he chokes out. “Should I?”

“You have every right to,” Kurt insists. “And I just -- I need you to understand that all of this --”

“Sex?”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees with a sigh, reaching for Blaine’s other hand. “Sex is a really big deal to me, okay? It’s not just about finding a suitable mate or hormones. It’s about choice. I didn’t get to choose being a werewolf. And I -- ever since I first phased, I’ve made conscious choices to be as human as possible. I don’t like giving into something I can’t always control. I like being able to choose. And Blaine, you -- you know me. You know I like romance. I believe in monogamy even though most wolves don’t mate for life. So many of our kind treat sex like they’re claiming someone and that’s not -- that’s not me, Blaine. I like having the ability to choose, but you should have that too. You’re more human than I am. And the other night, you didn’t. You were drunk and you didn’t know what it would be like to be with me and --”

Blaine cuts him off with a kiss, warm and searing against Kurt’s mouth. They fit together easily, Blaine’s hands dropping to his waist, Kurt’s arms draping over Blaine’s shoulders. It’s so hard sometimes not to give in to this other side of him when he’s close to Blaine, to give in to the way Blaine smells and tastes and presses up against him. Kurt always feels warm and lost to him and so connected in a way that he shouldn’t, not if wolves don’t mate for life. His heart thunders wildly in his chest and he feels more human because of it, because of Blaine. Kurt breaks the kiss with a gasp, and it’s Blaine who leans in closer, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s neck. It’s so distinctly dog-like that it makes Kurt laugh and drop a kiss to his forehead. “Remind me which one of us is the werewolf again?”

He feels Blaine smile against his neck. “You,” Blaine says plaintively. “But no one would know it with the way you treat me.” Kurt pulls away a little, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Kurt, you have always made a point to be as human as possible, especially around me. And that means you treat me the same way. You -- god, Kurt,” he breathes, resting their foreheads together. “You make me feel so loved.”

“Well, you are,” Kurt says teasingly, nosing him.

Blaine pulls away and his eyes are shining. Kurt can see the tears welling up in Blaine’s eyes, and he wants to kiss them away before they even fall. “You make me feel like you’re proud to be with me,” he says. “And not in a weird, possessive, alpha werewolf kind of way. I just -- I need you to know I feel the same way, Kurt. I’m proud to be with you because you’re _you_ , wolf and humanity and all. I’m not ashamed of you. And the other night, when I... _threw myself at you_ ,” he says with a grimace, “I wanted all of you.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Kurt says, his voice breaking a little.

“Yes,” Blaine says firmly, moving Kurt’s hands so that they’re resting directly over Blaine’s heart, “I do.” He moves one of his own hands up to cradle Kurt’s cheek, the touch intimate and calming. “You think you’re making a claim on me, Kurt, but the truth is that I’m already yours. You’re not taking anything I’m not giving to you of my own free will.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says seriously. “When have you _ever_ hurt another living soul?”

“That’s not --”

“Stop.” Blaine moves the hand on Kurt’s cheek to his mouth and presses two fingers over Kurt’s lips to quiet him. “When I found out what you were, do you remember what the first two things I saw you do were? You protected Tina, and then you protected me. You couldn’t hurt me. It’s not possible.”

Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s fingers before tugging them away. “You really trust me not to?”

“I trust you with my life. You’re more human than you give yourself credit for.”

Kurt can’t help but smile at that, and he reaches out to tangle their fingers together before shifting nervously on his feet. “It’s not that easy. Things will be... different.”

Blaine just returns the smile with ease, clutching Kurt’s hand even more tightly. “So we’ll talk about it first, lay out some ground rules and take precautions and you can give me a crash course in werewolf anatomy and mating habits --”

Kurt barks out a laugh at that, an almost actual bark, but Blaine’s smile just grows even wider. “Still my Kurt.” _Yours_ , Kurt thinks, and his blood races, making him dizzy with want. He leans in for a kiss that’s just a little bit dirty, and when he licks his lips hungrily as he pulls away, Blaine actually groans. “Okay, that is... kind of hot.”

Kurt surveys him cautiously. He can smell Blaine’s arousal even if he can’t quite see it yet. “What,” Kurt asks slowly, “my wolfish tendencies turn you on?” Blaine blushes high in his cheeks and Kurt’s mouth drops open. “Oh my god,” he drawls. “You _want_ me to claim you. You want me to be all... possessive. You think it’s hot.”

“I think _you’re_ hot,” Blaine argues, but the blush doesn’t go away and Kurt knows he’s right.

“But it’s like a _thing_ ,” Kurt pries. “Like a kink. Oh my god, you have a werewolf kink --”

“I do not!” Blaine protests with a laugh, blushing harder. “I just -- okay, maybe I have a little bit of a possession kink,” he allows.

Kurt just blinks at him in surprise. “I -- just because I’m an alpha doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you like I own you or something. I’m not going to treat you like an animal.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to,” Blaine says soothingly. “I don’t want you to. I just -- Kurt, the fact that us being intimate means that someone like you can _smell_ it, can smell you all over me? The fact that there’s a way you can mark me as yours -- don’t give me that look -- that’s beyond normal human perception? I’m not going to lie, Kurt. It does turn me on.” He whines low in the back of his throat, hands growing clammy in Kurt’s grasp, and Kurt’s filled with the desire to make his mate -- partner, Blaine, _Blaine_ calm and reassured.

Kurt’s blood quiets to a steady hum, and he can feel just how blue his eyes are as he prompts Blaine to meet his gaze. “I love you. And I love that you love me for what I am -- all that I am -- and not in spite of some of the less normal parts.” Blaine curls in close again, his body warm and solid and pressed right up against Kurt’s. Kurt’s hands reach around to rest on Blaine’s back and he is so _sure_ of Blaine tonight, real and breathing and human under his touch. It’s refreshing after the disaster the other night had been, and he feels the connection in his heart, all the way down to his bones.

Even if he’d managed to have sex with Blaine, Sebastian never would’ve gotten _this_ , and the alpha in Kurt puffs up a little with pride.

“What was that about mating season again?”

*****

The Sacrifice  
[03x11 -- Michael]

The air smells of betrayal.

Kurt mistakes Blaine for the source at first, with the way he keeps looking at the Warblers during the sing-off. Kurt knows how much this must hurt, for Blaine to see his old friends turning against him because of that _mongrel_. Sebastian’s sudden about face isn’t really so sudden, Kurt knows. Sebastian gave up on Blaine a long time ago, the second he sauntered up to them in the Lima Bean before sectionals and could smell Kurt all over Blaine. It’s the one point on which Kurt allows his alpha to reflect on with pride. He loves being able to rub Sebastian’s nose in it without actually having to touch him.

But Kurt’s problem, more often than not, is that he mistakes vanity for pride, and he oftens pays the price for that. He should be paying for it now.

Blaine is, instead.

The world slows down and speeds up all at once -- Blaine’s hand pushing against him, Blaine’s body jumping in front of him, the distinctive _thud_ of Blaine falling to the cement ground of the garage, the sickening smell of sugar and salt in the air. It’s a slushie, a god damn slushie, splashed across Blaine’s face and all over the ground and Blaine is clutching his face and screaming in pain, _why is he screaming in pain_?

Kurt doesn’t care which part of him it is, human or wolf, when he kneels on the ground next to Blaine and places a tentative hand on Blaine’s arm. He prompts gently, asks, “Honey? What’s wrong?” But Blaine just continues to writhe on the ground, half sobbing and refusing to remove his hands from his face. It wasn’t a normal slushie, Kurt’s figured out that much, but regardless of what Sebastian put in it, it wouldn’t have hurt Kurt. It would have humiliated him in front of some of his pack, which he’s sure was Sebastian’s intention. But Blaine -- stupid, loving, noble, _human_ Blaine put himself between them, and now he’s hurt.

And for one blinding moment, Kurt allows the wolf inside to give into rage. He slowly lifts his gaze to where the Warblers are staring at them, mouths agape, and Kurt looks at Sebastian with murder in his eyes.

_\-- retribution -- pin him down -- mate, mate, he hurt my mate -- insolent -- turn his face, get him to bare his throat --_

“Kurt.”

Kurt blinks, breathing hard, to find Sebastian pinned underneath his paws. Sebastian, who is still decidedly, infuriatingly human and refusing to bare his throat in submission and defeat. Kurt wants to rip his throat out.

“Kurt.”

Kurt snuffs and shakes his head, retreating with a whine as the wolf and the human battle for dominance. It takes all of his focus not to pounce on Sebastian again, to ignore the horrified looks on the Warblers’ faces, to concentrate on the voice calling his name.

“Kurt.”

Recognition finally dawns on Kurt and he turns his back on Sebastian without a backwards glance, ignoring the wolf’s howl of resistance. _Don’t turn your back on him, he could --_ Kurt’s back at Blaine’s side in an instant, surveying the damage. Blaine’s managed to push himself into a sitting position with Tina’s help. His face is still stained red but most of the slushie has been wiped away. His hand is still pressed firmly over his right eye, his whole body still tensed up in pain, but he’s got his left eye open and trained resolutely on Kurt. He reaches out his trembling left hand, fingertips striving to touch Kurt’s fur. “Kurt.”

And again, Kurt doesn’t seem to care which side of himself is in control right now, because he’s pressing in close, letting Blaine clutch at his fur. He sniffs all over, trying to figure out exactly what else was in the slushie. He nudges his nose against Blaine’s neck, licks a warm and reassuring stripe there, his mind flooded with _Blaine, Blaine, mate mate mate, okay okay, please be okay_.

“We should get him in a car,” Quinn advises quietly. “Take him to the hospital. I bet someone has a change of clothes in one of the cars.” She starts to help Blaine to his feet with Mike’s help.

Puck and Santana look to Kurt. “Want us to take care of him?” Puck mutters, glaring at what Kurt can only guess is Sebastian behind them.

“No,” Tina says firmly. Santana opens her mouth to protest, but Tina talks over her. “Look, I’d love nothing more than to sink my teeth into that _fleabag_ , but we’re better than this. And right now, Blaine needs to be the priority.” They all turn to Kurt silently, looking for guidance.

“ _Kurt_.”

Blaine’s voice, quiet and pleading, is all it takes for Kurt to make his decision. He shakes his head once in Puck’s direction and pads forward, paws tracking through the sludge-like residue of the remnants of the slushie on the ground. He lifts head so that his nose pushes against Blaine’s outstretched hand, letting Blaine know he’s there.

He shifts when they get to his Navigator, digs around for the spare set of clothes he keeps stashed there and changes quickly. He slips into the back seat and tugs Blaine against him, letting Finn drive. Blaine’s breathing is unsteady against him as he fights not to whimper in pain, but he seems to take comfort in being slotted up against Kurt’s warmth, fist clutching the fabric of Kurt’s shirt restlessly. Kurt lets his fingertips dance across the back of Blaine’s neck in an attempt to soothe him. It’s the first time in almost a year that Kurt’s had to shouldered the responsibility of someone else as the alpha, to put someone else’s needs above his own. It came as easily tonight as it had on the field that night, the decision to stifle the wolf and man up and protect someone else. It’s the role he was born to play, and not even avoiding it for over two years changed that.

When Kurt looks down, he sees his hands stained red.

*****

The Ploy  
[03x14 -- On My Way]

“What do you want?” Rachel snaps.

“I’m going to make this simple for you,” Sebastian says, clearly talking down to them. “In exchange for not posting that picture on the internet, I want you not to compete at regionals, Berry.” He pauses, eyes flicking over to Kurt, and smirks. “Let’s see how New Directions does without their alpha.” He spins on his heel and makes to leave, confidence in every step.

“This is ridiculous,” Rachel hisses. “What are we going to -- Kurt, where are you going? Get back here!”

Kurt ignores her though, and makes a beeline for Sebastian. Kurt manages to catch up to him just before the door and grabs Sebastian’s elbow to hold him in place. The wolf barks in approval but Kurt ignores it, eyes trained on Sebastian’s face. Sebastian turns to face him and actually _smiles_. “You’re so easy to provoke, you know that?”

Kurt’s lips thin into a line, trying not to give into the provocation. “Is this what you think it means,” he asks, voice low, “to be a leader?”

Sebastian removes his arm from Kurt’s grasp but doesn’t leave. Instead, he turns all the way around and folds his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. “Leaders do what it takes to get the job done,” he says indifferently. “Leaders can’t be afraid to employ certain tactics just because they might not be fair or moral. It doesn’t work that way, Kurt, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself of that. It’s a dog eat dog world out there.”

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” Kurt throws back coldly. “I’m sure you used some of those tactics when you persuaded the Warblers to disregard their sense of honor.”

“Let’s be honest, Kurt,” Sebastian says. “One of us knows what it takes to be a leader and it’s definitely not you.”

“A leader, or an alpha?” Kurt pries. Sebastian’s jaw sets, defensive, and Kurt barrels on. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Sebastian, what you’re doing with them. You may be an omega, but you treat the rest of the Warblers like they’re your practice pack. You treat them like _animals_.”

“I treat them like they act,” Sebastian snaps. “They were like a bunch of lost puppies after Blaine transferred. They needed someone to lead them.”

“You mean dominate,” Kurt spits coldly. “And you can insult me all you want, but it’s not going to change anything. Blaine’s still mine, and you’re still just an omega without a pack. You have no idea what it takes to be a leader, Sebastian.”

“Power,” Sebastian throws back immediately. “It takes power. There’s nothing wrong with making a bid for it.”

“Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Kurt quotes, folding his own arms over his chest now. “You want to know the real difference between you and me, Sebastian? You abuse your power. I’ve only been forced to use it once, and that was when I took my birthright. And even then, I had to earn it. I don’t treat my pack like they’re animals. I don’t force them to obey me. I don’t use them as a means to an end.”

“Without order, there’s only chaos,” Sebastian argues. “Your little pack is a shining example of that.”

“Maybe it is,” Kurt laughs. “But at least the chaos means we’re human. I feel sorry for you, Sebastian. Your actions indicate you’re anything but.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, spins on his heel and leaves without another word, but Kurt can tell he’s gotten under Sebastian’s skin, can smell it and sense it in the air all around them. It’s not until Rachel’s hand rests gently on Kurt’s arm that he remembers where he is, and he looks down to find her offering him a small smile. “I know you don’t like him, and that most of that was probably because he insulted you as an alpha, but it was nice of you to stick up for us like that -- for me.”

“Yeah, well,” Kurt sighs, slinging an arm around her shoulder and ushering her back to their table. “You’re pack, even if you’re not a werewolf. I’m the only one who gets to humiliate you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rachel giggles.

Kurt arches an eyebrow at her in challenge. “Take out those wedding magazines again,” he taunts. “And then we’ll see.”

*****

The Peace  
[03x14 -- On My Way]

Kurt hates the way hospitals smell. He always has, ever since he was little, even before he first phased. He’s spent enough time in them that it should be familiar enough not to really notice. But he does notice, each and every time he crosses the threshold. It’s too sterile and makes him feel nauseated, a feeling that’s only gotten worse since he phased, senses heightened.

It smells like ache.

He knocks on the doorjamb, quiet and tentative, bringing the flowers in his hand closer to his nose to calm his stomach. Over the petals, he sees Karofsky look up at him in surprise, clearly uneasy. “Can I come in?” Karofsky nods, eyes following Kurt as he sets the flowers down on the table near the door and settles into the chair near the bed. They’re both too quiet and awkward, eyes meeting for fleeting glances before looking away. Kurt honestly has no idea _what_ to say, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry.”

Karofsky’s response, to Kurt’s surprise, is immediate. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

Kurt keeps his eyes trained on his lap. “You were outed because of me.”

The next response is more delayed, Karofsky’s voice less sure. “You weren’t the one who outed me. It’s not your fault.” Kurt nods slightly, resigning, and shifts uncomfortably in the chair. “I just -- I thought it’d be easier, once I left McKinley, you know? I didn’t have the pack anymore, but I’d at least be able to hide, and I had -- well, I thought I had my grandmother.”

“And you don’t anymore?” Kurt guesses.

Karofsky shakes his head. “She doesn’t -- she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. She thinks I’m _sick_.” He snorts in derision, eyes falling to his lap. “Ironic, coming from her, right? She’s the reason I’m a supernatural killing machine, and somehow me being gay is the unnatural thing.”

“Why’d you do it?” Kurt asks. “You knew it wouldn’t work, not that way.”

“I don’t know,” Karofsky sighs, reclining against his pillows and staring at the ceiling. “I guess I just -- I had to try. I let the beast control me for so long, I guess I just thought if I could end it... I wouldn’t be so alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Karofsky looks over at Kurt, face betraying his surprise. Kurt can hear his heartbeat speed up even from feet away, and it’s that that makes Kurt reach a tentative hand out to grasp Karofsky’s. “Dave, I know you don’t go to McKinley anymore, and I’m not -- I’m never going to feel the same way about you as you do about me, but you’ll always be pack to me.”

Karofsky’s hand doesn’t move under Kurt’s, but his eyes are surveying Kurt with an open curiosity. “And what happens in a few months?” he asks. “After we’ve all graduated and go our separate ways? How do you manage to keep a pack together after that? How does it function?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt laughs. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Another quiet, studying glance, and then Karofsky sighs and looks up at the ceiling again, knuckles bumping up against Kurt’s hand. Kurt smiles at the gesture and removes his hand, giving Karofsky the space he needs. “Do you think there are gay wolf packs?” Karofsky ventures after a few moments of silence.

Kurt barks out a laugh and shifts in the chair to get more comfortable. “Probably.” He props his chin up on his hand, watching Karofsky with an amused expression. He softens after a moment, biting his lip before speaking again. “Pack isn’t always about blood and genetics. Pack is the family you make for yourself. At least half of glee club isn’t like us, and they’re as much pack to me as the actual wolves.”

Karofsky looks over at him at that, arching an eyebrow. “Even your queen of the night?”

Kurt grins, nodding. “Even Tina.” He hesitates, not sure if it’s a good idea to bring this up, but he barrels on anyway, hoping for the best. “This is going to sound lame, but I know how you feel, Dave. I know what it’s like to feel like an outcast, like no one understands, like no one can help you. And when you find someone who does, who can? That changes everything.”

Karofsky’s eyes don’t leave him, and the whole room smells like ache.

“It’s why you’re in love with him, isn’t it?” Karofsky guesses.

Kurt smiles softly, a little uncomfortable but persevering anyway. “It’s one of the reasons.”

Karofsky nods, tight-lipped, and turns his gaze to his lap, fiddling with his hands uncomfortably. “I know I didn’t always think this, but you’re the right person for the job, Kurt.”

“You’re not the only one who didn’t think I was qualified.”

Karofsky rolls his eyes. “We were a bunch of idiots, okay?”

It’s Kurt’s turn to roll his eyes, and he taps Karofsky’s arm playfully. “I was talking about me.”

Karofsky arches an eyebrow at him. “I find it hard to believe that you doubted yourself.”

“But I did,” Kurt insists. “And I have spent... so much time trying to keep the wolf locked away, trying just to be _human_.” He leans in a little closer, deliberately reaching out to take Karofsky’s hand in his. “The way you feel, Dave, what you tried to do? That’s your humanity.”

Karofsky squeezes his hand a little, grateful, before withdrawing his own. “Yeah, well, humanity bites sometimes.” Kurt snorts with laughter and covers his face with his hands. “Oh, shut up, Hummel.” His mouth twitches into a smile, though, and he offers up his fist. “Pack?”

Kurt smiles, meets Karofsky’s yellow eyes with his own red ones, and raises his fist in kind. “Pack.”

*****

The Mark  
[3x22 -- Goodbye]

“Do you think it made a difference?”

Blaine blinks up from the latest issue of Vogue that’s spread out front of them on his bed and looks over at Kurt, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Do I think what made a difference?”

“Me,” Kurt elaborates with a sigh, flipping over from his stomach to his back to stare up at the ceiling. “Do you think my being alpha made a difference at all? Do you think I made any sort of impact at McKinley?”

Blaine flips the magazine shut and tosses it onto the nightstand before turning on his side to face Kurt properly. “Why are you asking?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just -- I’m graduating at the end of the week and then that’s it. I won’t be alpha anymore. Well, I won’t be McKinley’s alpha anymore,” he corrects. “And I guess I’m just wondering if it made a difference, you know? It’s always seemed like it’s supposed to be important.”

“And you don’t feel like it was?” Blaine guesses, trying to figure out where this is going.

“I don’t feel like I did anything,” Kurt admits with another shrug. He’s trying to come off as indifferent, but Blaine can tell this is really bothering him. “I’m just wondering what the point was. Did I make a difference for anyone? Did I leave a mark?”

Blaine bites his lip at the memory of Kurt losing elections. It could’ve meant so much, if Kurt had been elected as president. He could’ve made a difference at McKinley in ways he’s sure Brittany has never even thought of, in ways she never did. His stomach twists a little at the sight of Kurt’s face, a little forlorn looking, and Blaine wants nothing more than to make him feel better. “Hey,” he says gently, tapping Kurt’s arm with the back of his hand. Kurt reluctantly looks over at him, face impassive. “You did. Whoever ends up being your successor has a lot to live up to.”

“Yeah?” Kurt says faintly, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Blaine nods and scoots a little closer, prompting Kurt to turn onto his side as well. “If anything, Kurt, you showed people that being a werewolf doesn’t have to take over their lives.”

Kurt laughs. “It sure feels like it did.”

“I know,” Blaine says patiently. “But you worked really hard to make sure that it didn’t. It’s not that being a werewolf is a bad thing -- it’s not -- but it’s always been really important to you to be as human as you can. And from what you’ve told me about the history of pack and McKinley, it’s never been like that. It’s -- what you are gives you power, Kurt, but the legacy you leave behind is that you don’t necessarily have to use it. And if you do end up using it, you can use it for good things. You can use it to help people. There’s always a choice. That’s huge, Kurt. That’s totally making a difference.”

Kurt’s smile finally breaks free, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips. “Thank you,” he says. “I needed that. I needed some perspective.”

“Well, I’m a _little_ biased,” Blaine admits, flushing a little. “I’m the alpha’s mate, after all. It’s sort of in my job description to make him feel better by showering him with compliments.”

Kurt grins a little wider and shifts so that Blaine rolls onto his back and Kurt hovers over him. “You make it sound like lavishing me with affection is an obligation,” he teases. “And I know you don’t feel that way.”

“Guilty,” Blaine sighs, dancing his fingers up the buttons of Kurt’s shirt. “At least you know I’m being honest.”

“True,” Kurt agrees, ducking down to press a kiss to Blaine’s jaw. He trails his lips farther down, mouth wet and hot against Blaine’s neck.

Blaine lets his eyes flutter shut and enjoys the attention Kurt’s giving him, hand flexing at Kurt’s waist. For all that Blaine loves to take care of Kurt and make him feel loved, Kurt returns that just as much, if not tenfold. Blaine knows there’s nothing compelling him to love Kurt, nothing supernatural drawing them together (he doesn’t really count the fact that Kurt thinks he smells really, _really_ good as compulsion). It’s his choice, and yet there are times, like now, when Blaine feels like maybe there is something more to this than the average human connection. “Kurt?” he prompts breathlessly. Kurt _hmms_ against him, undeterred. “You made a mark.”

Kurt nips lightly at the skin of his neck, playful and teasing. Blaine’s hands tighten at Kurt’s waist in response, body arching towards Kurt a little. “I know,” he says playfully, tonguing at the patch of skin he’s just bitten. Blaine would laugh if it weren’t so startlingly accurate, and he knows he’s being really obvious when he swallows hard because Kurt pulls away slowly, eyes surveying Blaine with curiosity. “Blaine?”

Blaine opens his eyes and draws in a breath. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look angry. “Why?” he asks slowly. “What did you --”

“Just promise me,” Blaine pleads. “Promise you’ll hear me out and let me explain and then, if it still bothers you, then you can get mad.”

Kurt’s quiet for a moment, eyes never leaving Blaine’s face, but eventually he nods. “Okay, but -- what is this about?” Blaine shifts so that he’s sitting up a little and puts some space between them. He reaches for the button and zipper on his jeans. Kurt arches an eyebrow as Blaine undoes them. “You realize it’s going to be a lot harder for me to concentrate if you’re naked, right?” Kurt says dryly. Blaine doesn’t respond, just tugs his jeans down a little so his boxer briefs are exposed. His fingers dance across the waistband of his underwear as he hesitates, looking up at Kurt for a moment before he finally takes the plunge and tugs the waistband down just enough to reveal the black ink on Blaine’s left hipbone.

“ _Is that a tattoo?_ ”

“You promised you wouldn’t get mad until you let me explain,” Blaine reminds him.

“How long have you had this?” Kurt asks incredulously, and Blaine can hear in Kurt’s voice how much he’s fighting not to immediately jump to anger.

“A little over two weeks.”

Kurt’s eyes widen a little, but it’s not until he turns his eyes back onto Blaine’s face that Blaine shrinks back a little, sheepish. “Is that why we haven’t had sex in over two weeks?”

Blaine bites his lip. “Maybe? To be fair, we’ve been preoccupied with nationals, too.”

Kurt huffs out a heavy sigh and rolls off of Blaine and onto his side. “Okay,” he says, patience clearly wearing thin. “Explain.”

“I love you,” Blaine says, and that gets Kurt to soften immediately. “And I know this year hasn’t been easy for us, but that hasn’t changed, Kurt. I’m always going to love you.”

“Why do I have a feeling this is rooted in your possession kink?” Kurt sighs, but there’s less agitation behind his words now, and Blaine feels a little better.

“Because it sort of is?” Blaine admits. “And you -- you’ve never made fun of me for that, Kurt. You’ve always accepted it. Please don’t stop now.” Kurt’s face softens a little but he doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Blaine to keep talking. “Look, you and I -- what we have is really special. I know you feel it too. And I know we both like the fact that other supernaturals can smell you all over me.” Kurt blushes a little at that but doesn’t deny it. “We’re already committed to each other, Kurt, and one day, we’ll be able to show that in more ways. A ring on your finger and mine -- it’s a way for everyone to know just how committed we are.”

“So why get a tattoo?”

“Because,” Blaine says, struggling to find the right words to explain himself. “I needed something that wasn’t designed for anyone else. I wanted something that was just for me, for us. I wanted a reminder that I belong to you, Kurt. I -- I needed it,” he admits quietly, letting his eyes fall. “I’m going to need it when you’re gone next year.”

Kurt’s still so quiet, and Blaine wishes he had the nerve to look at Kurt’s face to try and figure out what he’s thinking. When Kurt finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost gentle. “Can I touch it?” Blaine lifts his eyes, surprised, but nods, swallowing hard as Kurt’s fingertips start to brush over his skin. Kurt’s fingers drag over the outline of the wolf’s paw print on Blaine’s hipbone, tracing over the letters in the center pad -- _KH_. It’s not a particularly big tattoo, or colorful (it’s only black ink). It’s hidden from view, a spot Blaine chose deliberately. He didn’t want anyone to be able to see it except for the two of them.

“You made a mark,” Blaine says again. “You left enough of an imprint behind for McKinley, but you really made a mark on me, Kurt. Please don’t forget that.” Kurt still doesn’t say anything, just continues to trace over the tattoo, and Blaine starts to squirm uncomfortably. “Are you mad?” he asks tentatively. “I know it’s usually a bad idea to get a tattoo in honor of someone else, and it costs more to get removed than it does to actually get it, but --”

“I’m not mad,” Kurt says finally, eyes still trained on the art on Blaine’s hip. “I feel like I should be, but I’m not mad. It’s --” Kurt trails off, propping himself up on his elbows, and licks his lips to wet them.

“Oh my god,” Blaine laughs, body finally relaxing. “You think it’s _hot_ , don’t you?”

Kurt frowns a little, still unable to tear his eyes away. “The human in me wants to think this was a really bad idea, but mostly the wolf in me just thinks it’s really hot.”

“Always at odds, those two,” Blaine teases, leaning back on his elbows. 

“Maybe they don’t have to be anymore,” Kurt muses. He runs his thumb over the letters again before splaying his whole hand atop the wolf’s print. Blaine sucks in a breath and holds it; he feels like his skin is on fire. There’s something almost reverent about the way Kurt’s looking at him, and Blaine feels it all the way down to his blood and bones. Kurt finally lifts his gaze to Blaine’s face, his eyes shifting from blue to red and back again, over and over and over. Blaine’s jaw falls open just a little, his whole system flooding with _want_. Kurt’s eyes light up in delight, regardless of the color, and he leans in close to press his lips over his initials on Blaine’s skin.

“Mine.”

*****


End file.
